Watch the Snow
by Dawnbright75.Aracalima
Summary: After Celebrían sails to Valinor, Elrond is left distraught. He explains his sorrows and the way of the world as Ilúvatar made it o Glorfindel in quite a metaphoric way, and realizes that for every darkness there is a hope.


**Watch the Snow**

The snow fell, creating a soft carpet on the grounds of Imladris. Cold stars glittered on the cobblestone courtyard and icicles hung from awnings. Yet Elrond son of Eärendil, Lord of Rivendell, though covered by a thin layer himself, saw none of this as he gazed out on the valley from his balcony. None of this at all.

He was tired of the world, but not yet ready to forsake it. He had his twin sons to care for, and his beloved Arwen. But he also had to watch Estel grow up. Though mortal, the Heir of Isildur was as close to him as any of his other children. There was so much love roaming Middle Earth, but also so much was lost to darkness.

Where he had lost Celebrían.

Elrond closed his eyes and composed himself. Celebrían was happy in Valinor, having escaped the grievous soul-wounds inflicted by Orcs. He knew she would want him to be happy, too. Happy for her. Yet that he could not be.

"I am the greatest healer in the Third Age, perhaps even the greatest healer Arda has ever seen, save only that of the Valar and the Maiar, or so you have told me," he whispered, voice heavy with grief. "So why is it that I could not heal you?"

He didn't expend an answer, but lifted his dark head to greet the Hrívë winds. He imagined that he heard his wife's honeysuckle voice, soothing as the honey stored in his herb room. He wanted to hear it, but the words didn't come.

"Not only have I failed you," he continued softly, his heart clenching in his chest. All the unshed tears that had built up behind his eyes, the tears he had guarded from his children for their sakes, prodded the barriers now that he was at last alone. He tried to resist. "Not only have I failed you," he repeated, "but also have I failed Elladan and Elrohir, and Arwen, our Evenstar. We all mourn, for now we cannot meet again on these shores."

The tears came, only to freeze up on his face. It was that cold, but the strong chill hardly penetrated the Elven robes and skin.

Behind him, next to the doors, a golden haired warrior watched his lord. He understood his liege needed privacy, yet he could not tear himself away. So he stood and shared in the grief.

Elrond sighed, his breath hitching slightly. He sensed he was not alone. "Watch the snow, Glorfindel," he ordered quietly.

Realizing his friend hadn't made an accusation against him being there, the Elf strode forward to be next to the Lord of Imladris. Obeying, he gazed out at the tiny snow crystals drifting down on the breeze, ignoring the flakes that found a home atop his golden crowned head on his deep red robe. "I am watching, Lord."

Normally, Elrond would've called him out for calling him by that title, but now he remained silent.

"The Children of Ilúvatar are like the snowflakes, Glorfindel," Elrond murmured instead. "None are quite alike as another, and they are all white and pure and lowly as they all start out as. Some ride a wind and sail Arda for all of Hrívë, and yet some just fall." He didn't wait to ask if his listener understood, as he usually would, but Glorfindel nodded.

"They all fade sometime, even the wind-riders. When the last of the snow has melted, Coirë arrives, and new seeds plunge into the soil. Then in Tuilë they grow.

"But some of the plants will not survive the last of Hrívë's chill, and they do not begin new growth with the loa. That is what I foresee." Elrond fingered the ring on his finger, Vilya, involuntarily.

"And the Elves will fade just as the wind-riders will, with the coming of Spring," Glorfindel whispered. He bowed his head. "Winter must last long while we raise the child."

"The loa will pass as it will," Elrond responded soberly. "Not even the Valar have control over it. The cycle was simply written into the Great Song of the Ainur, and it was meant to be."

A comfortable, wondering silence nestled itself. The companions leaned against the rail, lost in thought and watching the snow crystals dance before their eyes.

"Ada?"

Both Elves turned, startled, towards the door of the balcony. A little boy with dark hair stood with a dark green and worn blanket clutched tightly in one hand.

"Yes, Estel?" Elrond forced himself to say. He knelt to let the mortal child walk into his warm embrace.

"Nana got mad at me for not eating my vegetables," Estel whispered, fear glinting in his silver eyes. "She says she's going to make me eat all the greens in the pantry tomorrow for dinner with no dessert, but the vegetables are yucky. I don't want to eat them, and she got into her Erestor-voice."

Glorfindel couldn't help but snicker. The poor child had been unfortunate enough to wander into the Chief Councillor's office when he was very young and had an accident. Ever since he had not been on good terms with Erestor.

"Oh, Estel," Elrond chuckled. The laughter didn't reach his eyes, but the young boy, of course, didn't notice. "Let's go eat those vegetables. They're good for you. If you want to be a great warrior and travel with the Dúnedain, you'll need to build strength. That nasty spinach has lots of nutritious iron." Though the world held many darknesses, Elrond realized Estel was his hope for now. It would be good to have a child in the house again.

Glorfindel smiled as Elrond led his adopted son away. Gilraen always told him stories of the courageous Dúnedain, but for now, they only belonged to the tales. He hoped that by raising the child, Elrond would heal his own hurts. After all, according to Celebrían and many others, Elrond Peredhel was the most skilled healer Arda had ever seen.

A/N All right, my first one-shot for Lord of the Rings wasn't too bad. Worthy enough to post, anyway. Thanks for reading, and reviews would be beautiful, but not necessary, as I know many won't heed this message.

Namárië,

Áracalima


End file.
